


Formality

by runawayballista



Category: Dollhouse, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawayballista/pseuds/runawayballista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Director of Project Freelancer comes to the Dollhouse with a rather unconventional request, but Adelle doesn't feel terribly inclined to grant it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Formality

Adelle DeWitt’s office was carefully designed to keep the Dollhouse’s clients at ease. The broad, plush sofas, the deep warm colors, the huge windows casting light into the open room -- there was a purpose to every piece of furniture, to every corner and angle. Adelle wanted her clients to feel comfortable in her presence, to feel at _home_. They were so much more pliable when they were relaxed.

Adelle’s business wasn’t just the care of the Dollhouse; it was hospitality just as much as anything else. So when she smiled at the man in the sofa opposite her, it was only to put him at ease, as was the slow way in which she rose from her seat to cross to the table with her crystal decanters. She turned halfway to glance back at him as she pulled out two glasses, head tilting just slightly to the side. “Would you care for a drink, Dr. Church?”

“I’m afraid I don’t much care for tea, Miss DeWitt,” came Church’s careful drawl. He didn’t recline against the soft cushion of the couch, but rather sat up rigidly, back straight, hands folded in his lap. The corner of Adelle’s mouth quirked up just slightly. The Director was always a difficult man to handle.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Dr. Church. This is bourbon.” She poured him a glass without waiting for a response, returning to the sofa to hand it to him with a taut smile.

“Well, then, I suppose I have no choice but to accept,” he said dryly, taking the glass in hand. Adelle took her seat opposite him, legs crossed, and sipped at her bourbon.

“Now, Dr. Church,” she said, voice still ringing with subtle tones of warmth, “let’s discuss the rather...unusual nature of your request.”

Church’s mouth twitched just slightly at the word _request_ , but he merely sat forward, setting his untouched glass on the table between them. “I wasn’t aware there would be anything more to discuss.”

“Oh, there most certainly is.” There was an edge beneath her voice, just barely detectable, but her perfunctory smile never wavered. “After all, if we’re to make an imprint of your brain, there are waivers to be signed, preparations to make -- and of course the unimaginably agonizing layers of red tape and paperwork to wade through if you actually think we’re going to then _release_ that imprint to you.” Her voice had acquired a sharp, haughty tone by the time she finished her sentence, and she punctuated it with another sip of her bourbon.

Church’s mouth flattened into a thin line, displeasure tugging at the corners. “I beg your pardon?”

“The technology utilized by the Dollhouse is very carefully protected, Dr. Church. It would be downright idiotic of us to just hand even a piece of it off to anyone just because they threw a load of money at us.” Adelle’s voice had suddenly lost its warmth, spitting the words out like ice chips. “You have long been a client of the Dollhouse, which is why I’m even entertaining the thought. But I assure you, Dr. Church, you will have to work very hard to convince me that the risks of parting with one of our imprints, regardless of whose brain it was created with, are worth it.”

“We are at _war_ , Miss DeWitt.” Church’s voice was low, but Adelle hardly looked ruffled.

“And the Dollhouse is not a military institution.”

“And yet you have lent your Actives out to countless military operations,” said Church coldly. “Do you have no sense of patriotism, Miss DeWitt? Do you not have a _civic duty_ to aid in the war effort any way you can?”

“Oh, _please_. Don’t you try to put yourself on a moral high ground. It doesn’t endear you to me nearly as much as you might think.” Adelle scoffed into her glass. “The engagements of other clients are no business of yours anyway. And it is quite another matter entirely to simply hand you one of our imprints. When we send an Active out on an engagement, it isn’t like we’re releasing the imprint out into the world. We get it _back_.” Adelle drained her glass of bourbon and set it on the table, casting a glance at Church’s still untouched glass. “Don’t waste your breath trying to convince me of my _civic duty_. It’s better spent explaining to me exactly what it is you plan to do with this imprint. Assuming you do, in fact, have a plan.”

“Of course I do,” Church snapped. “I would not have come here otherwise.”

“I’m all ears, Director.” Adelle folded her hands in her lap, leveling her gaze at him.

“Miss DeWitt,” he started, “this is a _highly classified_ military operation. You cannot honestly expect me to divulge the details of -- ”

“Dr. Church, I don’t know how you think things work around here,” Adelle said smoothly, rising to her feet, “but _I_ am the one in charge of this Dollhouse. Nothing here happens without my say so. So if you hope to proceed with this project, you will need to convince me first.” She placed her hands on her hips, looking down at him. “Amaze me.”

Church looked less than pleased, but she wouldn’t be swayed -- not Adelle DeWitt, not with the way she kept an iron grip on her house. He pulled his briefcase into his lap and snapped it open, removing a single file.

“As you know, there are many projects under the UNSC running experimental training programs to develop technology that may aid us in the war. Project Freelancer is one such program.” He snapped his briefcase shut and placed the file on top of it. He made no move to hand it over to Adelle. “Our agents are highly trained in various fields of combat. They are prepared to undergo a series of experimental training exercises involving AI implantation. We have been granted the use of one smart AI by the UNSC. Of course, they have not provided the AI. It is for that purpose that I have come to you, Miss DeWitt.”

“We are not in the business of creating artificial intelligence, Director,” said Adelle, her mouth turning down just slightly at the corners. “In fact, there is very little about what we do that is _artificial_. I’m afraid you have come to the wrong place.”

“On the contrary. Your technology is _especially_ well-suited to my intentions.”

“Dr. Church, there are far more... _scrupulous_ institutions, if you’ll pardon my saying, to which you could turn for the purposes of your project. Institutions which have tenable experience in the creation of such AIs.”

“That may be true,” said Church, running a finger along the edge of the file in his lap. “However, I must admit that I find the established process for the creation of a smart AI rather _barbaric_. And though you may not agree, I believe that the technology you use here will prove especially useful to the Alpha project. You see, Miss DeWitt, I believe that creating a smart AI from one of your imprints will result in a somewhat more... _organic_ AI, one which will better integrate with our subjects.”

Adelle flinched. She sat back down on the sofa quickly, her body stiff now, the fluid movements of earlier lost altogether. “The Alpha project,” she repeated dryly, her jaw going taut. “Is that really what you’re calling it?”

“Oh -- you’ll have to pardon the name,” Church said, and his lips curled into a smile. Disgust jumped sour and hot into the back of Adelle’s mouth at the sight of it. “I apologize for the confusion. The unfortunate associations with the notorious event that took place at your Dollhouse are merely coincidental.”

She hated the way the words slid off his tongue, the way he served her this utter bullshit on a silver platter, but all she could do was regain her composure with a steady breath and give him another tight-lipped smile. “Please, Director, go on. What exactly is it you plan to do with this -- _Alpha_ project, this AI? I am so _very_ eager to hear a more detailed explanation.” Her tone dropped off into venomous territory, her voice lowering with every word.

Church ran a finger down the page open in his lap, as if searching for something, but he just as soon flipped it shut and opened his briefcase again. “The AI will be rated for integration with specially trained agents. In addition to providing detailed combat analysis and assist in operating enhanced equipment, the AI will be expected to cooperate with soldiers in battle, as if they were a team.” He slipped the file inside his briefcase and closed it, the locks coming together with an audible click. Adelle looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue, and when he didn’t, she pursed her lips, the smile evaporating from her face.

“Is that all, then?”

“As I have told you, much of this information is highly classified. Do you find my explanation satisfactory, Miss DeWitt?”

“Hardly.” Adelle reached to brush a stray wisp of hair from her face, her mouth a thin, hard line. “If that’s all you wish to offer on the matter, then I’m afraid I remain unconvinced that this is a valuable and worthy use of the Dollhouse’s resources. I’m going to have to decline your request.”

“Is that so.” To her surprise, Church only smiled at her again, that cold curl of his lips that never seemed to quite reach his eyes. “Then I must regretfully inform you that I have already spoken to your superiors at Rossum. They have already approved my request. This was only a formality, Miss DeWitt. The project _will_ continue as planned.”

“We shall see about that,” said Adelle, her voice tight. She kept herself perfectly still, but the anger was written clear on her face in the way her jaw tightened and her nostrils flared. “They may be my _superiors_ , but I am still the one in charge of this Dollhouse, Dr. Church.”

“Be that as it may, I have already been assured that you will cooperate in full. It is done.” Church rose from his seat, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “I believe I have entertained this line of inquiry for long enough. I will be sure to make an appointment to sort out all the paperwork you mentioned.” He gave her a little nod of his head, but it was far from respectful. “Thank you for your time, Miss DeWitt. And the drink.”

He turned and walked curtly out of her office, briefcase in hand, leaving his bourbon untouched on the table. Adelle watched him go in furious silence, waiting for the door to swing shut behind him before she rose from her seat. She picked up his glass and slammed back the bourbon, swallowing it with an angry hiss, and stalked over to her desk, pressing the button for speakerphone.

“Judith,” she said tersely, one hand going to her head, “please send for Topher.”


End file.
